❖ MISSING MIA ❖ 1960-2010 ❖

DONELLA CUTTER MIA
285718
Sail No. 490
LAUNCH DAY
Summer 1960.
Designed by Laurent Giles
Built by A.H. Moody & Sons
for Fred and Marilyn Ellis.
Location: Swanwick Shore, England.
The beginning of this story of 5,500 miles
across the Atlantic Ocean.
photograph courtesy of the Ellis Preserve Collection.

Is there a man whoever escapes the sea, no matter how far inland he may roam. Far from the torment of the sea, amid placed streams and quiet lakes, a man can still feel the ocean's strong calling. Some, rooted to the soil they work, choose not to heed this call. Others may rush to meet the challenge of the open sea.
      

from Aruba Esso News.
22 April 1961.

Such a man is Fred Ellis who, with his wife Marilyn, called at Aruba recently after having successfully crossed the Atlantic in a 43-ft cutter. They arrived at Oranjestad Harbor 18 march, purely by chance, with eight months of sailing behind them. A malfunctioning salt-water pump interrupted the final leg of their long cruise. Instead of sailing on to Panama, they stopped at Aruba for repairs.
      "In a way, it was a fortunate break-down," said Fred Ellis. "We simply love Aruba. We think it's wonderful and a fitting place to end our journey." Again, the seafarers hadn't planned to terminate their adventure in Aruba but time was running out. Dr. Ellis, a professor of history and philosophy, has to be at the U of British Columbia in Vancouver, B.C., in early June--time enough to ship his cutter to his home in Puget Sound but not time enough to sail it there. It would take four months of hard sailing.
      The story of the Ellis' memorable Atlantic crossing didn't start 21 July 1960, the day they sailed out of South Hampton, England. Instead, it had its beginning in the remote jungles of Burma where Dr. Ellis served during WW II. Although he had sailed as a child in Portland, OR., it was the crossing of the Pacific on a Liberty ship that gave him the longing to cross an ocean himself.
      Separated from the service, he went on to complete his education which led to teaching jobs in Eastern schools. In 1954, he joined the U of Minnesota and ultimately became a full professor. "There is no tidewater 2,000 inland," he said. "While at the university, I had only the Mississippi for sailing and it was just too tame." He longed to return to the sea, especially in the Portland area. In 1960, his big chance came.
      "I was offered the position in Vancouver –– just hours from the Puget Sound ––and took it. The prospects of going back to the Pacific coast are wonderful," Dr. Ellis said.
      "During those years from 1944 to early last year [1960,] I spent many, many hours planning this trip. I had been allowed to practice navigation on that crowded Liberty ship by a kindly first mate. After the war, I began reading everything remotely connected with boat building, auxiliary engines, sailing, chart reading, radio, currents, favorable winds, ocean crossings in small boats, and survival at sea," he continued. A savings program started several years ago, ultimately went into the building of the Mia; uncounted hours went into the planning and design.
      Two years ago, Dr. Ellis got a sabbatical leave and a leave of absence from the U of Minnesota. Accompanied by his wife and four small youngsters, he went to England to supervise the building of the Mia, named after the Arabic word for water.
      Much thought and the best materials went into the life rails, saloon,  forward quarters, and survival gear lashed to the aft deck. Installed were a radio direction finder, radiotelephone, and a special freshwater trank. In eighteen months the Mia was as nearly perfect as a sailing ship can be. "We had much confidence in the Mia. That was half the battle won. I knew that even if both of us were flat on our backs with sickness at sea, the Mia would carry us through," the deeply tanned professor said.
      The Mia is of cutter design with one main mast and two headsails forward. She has a thirty HP diesel auxiliary engine.

Courtesy of Bob and Mary Schoen,
the second owners of the MIA,
keeping her part of life in the 
San Juan Islands.

      They made the 1500-mile cruise to Madeira from South Hampton in just 21 days, then spent several weeks visiting various islands in the Canary group. the 2,000-mile voyage from there to Barbados took just 24 days. A young Englishman served as the third crew member from England to Madeira. A young German replace him and served until the Mia reached Bridgetown, Barbados. Fred and Marilyn continue the rest of the journey alone. After several weeks in Barbados, they continued to Grenada and then sailed through the Grenadines visiting St. Vincent and St. Lucia.
      By the time they reached Curacao, the seafarers were in a state of near exhaustion. Marilyn said her biggest problems were preparing meals during heavy seas and conserving freshwater. 
      Living a regular life at sea did much to keep up their morale. Whenever they passed a point where a chart change was necessary, they would have a small party. They had books and a short-wave radio as sole but sufficient entertainment. They were mainly concerned with effecting a safe crossing. Back in England in boarding school were their four small children who would join them in their new home on the Pacific coast.
      The Mia and her owners are on their way to the Puget Sound now. The boat was loaded aboard a freighter and is being accompanied by its masters. Do they have future sailing plans? "After we get settled down, someday we'd like to sail the Pacific. Nothing extraordinary, just sail down to Tahiti, cruise through the Pacific to Japan and back home." Fred Ellis remarked, his gaze fastened to the horizon far out at sea.
Aruba Esso News. 22 April 1961. 

MIA
of SAN JUAN COUNTY
Sailing with her second owners,
ROBERT AND MARY SCHOEN,
Clam Harbor, West Sound,
Orcas Island, WA.
Original photo from the archives of
the Saltwater People Historical Society.
Thank you to Mr. McKenna.

Fate:
28 December 2010 Mia was lost on a remote Baja beach. Her last owners were Paul Smulders and Julie Newton. 

❖ GREEKS ON THE ROCKS OF ORCAS ISLAND ❖ 1965

Harbour & Shipping
Cover May 1965.
Published in Vancouver, B.C. by
Progress Publishing Co Ltd.
Click image to enlarge.
From the collection of life long mariner,
Robert Schoen late of Orcas Island. 
See below for photos from the day.

Cover Story:

"On her maiden voyage, the big 25,000 ton Greek freighter Olympic Palm ran aground on Orcas Island in the San Juan Archipelago.
      Partly loaded with lumber, she was on her way from Port Alberni to Nanaimo to take on more cargo. Unable to pull herself free, the Olympic Palm relayed her plight to shore and the two tugs Island Mariner and Island Monarch were dispatched to her aid. Together, the two powerful tugs were able to lever the ship clear at the next high water.
      Once refloated, the Olympic Palm returned to Esquimalt under her own power to undergo a damage survey. Throughout, the weather remained calm and this plus the ability of Island Tug and Barge Ltd to be quickly on the scene saw a safe ending to the incident."

OLYMPIC PALM
1965
Shore of ORCAS ISLAND, WA.
These six photos are courtesy of 
Orcas Islander, Nick Exton, in the audience. 

OLYMPIC  PALM
Lumber cargo from Port Alberni, B.C.
Headed to Nanaimo, B.C.
via Orcas Island, WA.
1965

OLYMPIC PALM
Captain on the bow?
1965

Hope it went well in Esquimalt,
OLYMPIC PALM.
Orcas Island, WA. 1965

OLYMPIC  PALM
Maiden voyage to the coast of Orcas Island,
San Juan Archipelago, WA.
1965.

Tugboats from Victoria, B.C., arrived
to aid the OLYMPIC PALM, 1965.
Photos courtesy of Nick Exton.
Thank you to Dean D. for the digital help. 

❖ STAR OF Bengal 1898--1908 ❖

STAR OF BENGAL 
Courtesy of the State Library of Queensland.

"The ship tragedy that shook the world was the loss of the Star of Bengal. This vessel was originally built of iron at the Harland & Wolff yard at Belfast, Ireland in 1873. She measured 262 feet in length and was 1,877 tons. After trading worldwide for several years she was transferred to the flag of Hawaii and from 1898 to 1900 traded the islands and California under the J. J. Smith house flag. In 1900 the Bengal received U.S. registry and six years later was purchased by the Alaska Packers Assoc. Her awful demise came on 20 September 1908.
      Though the details surrounding the tragedy have never been made clear, it appears from the facts that there was a gross miscarriage of justice as an outcome of the hearing into the matter.
      

Captain Nicholas Wagner
and his author/daughter Joan Lowell.
He was master of the Star of Bengal
when she was lost in 1908.
Original photo from the archives of
the Saltwater People Log©.
Click image to enlarge.

In Joan (Wagner) Lowell’s best-selling but controversial book, The Cradle of the Deep (1929,) Captain Nicholas Wagner who was master of the Star of Bengal, is believed by some to have used his daughter’s book as a sounding board for his account of what actually happened. Though he took the full brunt of the blame and had his papers removed, a portion of justice was restored when he received amnesty several months later and returned to sea.

           His cause, however, was not necessarily aided by the book; it was the story of the captain's daughter who was reputedly raised aboard her father's schooner from the time she was a baby until the full bloom of youth at age 17. So authentically was it written that no sailor could have initially denied that there could have been a possibility of deceit. But as it turned out, Joan Lowell like any other young lady had spent most of her childhood in her hometown (Berkeley,) receiving the usual education through high school. She must have sat at her dad's side for endless hours hearing of his experiences as master of the schooner Minnie A. Caine and the ship Star of Bengal. Based on fact but mixed with a generous seasoning of fiction, salty cuss words and sex, the book was released by the publishers as purely non-fiction and was sold with that understanding. When the author was exposed by local residents a few months later, the whole thing blew up like a firecracker, the book had already gone through several printings, the cry of "foul play" forced the publishers to offer the money back to any disillusioned purchaser. The added publicity only tended to promote the book more and it was the year's best seller. 

      The generally accepted true account of the wreck as told at the hearing follows:

      The Alaska Packers Association bark Star of Bengal was en route back to San Francisco from Wrangell when the tragedy occurred on Coronation Island on 20 September 1908. She was commanded by Captain Nicholas Wagner with Gus A. Johnson as mate. The iron-hulled vessel departed from Wrangell with about 50,000 cases of salmon in her holds and carried scores of cannery workers being brought home from the company canneries in Alaska. They were mostly Orientals.

      The steam tenders Hattie Gage, Captain Dan Farrer, and the Kayak under a Captain Hamilton, handled the towing hawsers as the vessel was led through the dangerous Alexander Archipelago toward the open sea where she was to drop her lines and spread her canvas.

      Captian Farrer was in overall charge of the two tugs, which were actually cannery tenders owned by the APA. As long as calm weather prevailed they encountered no difficulty with the Bengal but at midnight when a brisk wind arose and turned into a gale two hours later, the trouble began with a capital T. The Kayak which had little draft aft caused most of the strain to be placed on the other tender. The Kayak soon became completely unmanageable and the tugs were working against each other instead of together. Convinced that to keep up the strain would have meant outright disaster for all three vessels, the tug skippers ordered the lines cut and made a run for it, leaving the laboring Bengal at the mercy of the storm.

      Before the tenders abandoned the scene, Captain Wagner, in desperation, had let the anchors go to thwart the drift toward the desolate island. The bark brought up in about ten fathoms, 50 feet from the beach. The tugs had sought shelter at Warren Island some 12 miles away, where temporary repairs were made, after which the Hattie Gage steamed back to Wrangell seeking assistance from the government cable ship Burnside.

      In the terrible blow, the Star of Bengal and her terrified company waited in miserable solitude. Straining on her cable the ship was fully open to the storm off exposed Helm Point of a lee shore with precipitous cliffs.

      Four courageous men, Henry Lewald, Olaf Hansen, and Fred Matson, able seamen, and Frank Muir, a cannery cook, volunteered to get a line ashore. Their boat was smashed to bits in the surf but they succeeded in gaining the beach and making the line fast. In the interim, the straining Star of Bengal parted her cables and struck the rocks. Within the hour the vessel broke up, only her mizzen topmast marking the spot of the grave. As the hull split open the steady flow of salmon cases and heavy steel drums were swept into the voted interspersed with the b bodies of struggling humans. The giant walls of water combed the devastating scene of man's losing b battle against the sea. It was mayhem.

      Later Captain Wagner who was among the handful of survivors gave this official account:

      "When the final shock came, the Star of Bengal appeared to heave up her entrails in three sections. As I was thrown into the water I saw the amidships beams of solid iron come out in a tangled mass. The force necessary to produce this is scarcely conceivable. So strong had been preceding gusts that a five-inch iron davit was snapped short off. After I was thrown into the water, any attempt to swim appeared ridiculous. As I struggle only to keep afloat, I was hurled toward shore among a thousand cases of salmon and hundreds of metal drums that constituted our cargo. I was practically unconscious when I reached the  beach."

      Though there has been some controversy as to how many were actually aboard the Star of Bengal most accounts placed the total at 132. Only 22 survived and they were picked up many hours later by the errant Kayak after the storm abated. There were reputedly 74 or 75 Orientals aboard and all but two perished. The Caucasians that drowned were mostly the ship's crew.

      Captain Wagner was extremely bitter, charging criminal cowardice on the part of the tug skippers, who insisted that they would have accomplished nothing but the destruction of their own vessels and crews by hanging on longer. The inspectors of the Alaska district agreed with them apparently, for they were not censured, while Captain Wagner who was in no way responsible for the tragic episode had his license suspended, as an unjustifiable act which was later rescinded by chief inspector Bermingham at San Francisco."

 Jim Gibbs. Pacific Square-Riggers.      

❖ MOTHER'S DAY CRUISIN' ❖

SAN JUAN ENTERPRISE out for a
Sunday Cruise to Blakely Island,
San Juan Archipelago, WA.
Photos by L. A. Douglas
this day of 10 May 1010
Click photo to enlarge.

"What about it, another swim anyone?"

"Hmmmmm, perfect temperature!"
Thanks for this romp, Lance.

❖ ORLAND OLSON AND HIS SCHOONER ❖ BY LEO MAHAN

Model of the schooner C. S. Holmes
Carved by Mr. Orland Olson
that he began in ca. 1934.
He is now 101 years of age.

Sail Ahoy! Avast the halyards! Come about! 

Batten down the hatches!

A story of Orland Olson and his Boat

There I, Orland Olson, was standing on the deck of the schooner, C. S. Holmes. I had seen her many times across the water in Seattle at the Foss Tug and Barge facility on Lake Washington Ship Canal. I had fallen in love with what I saw. I decided to make a model of this schooner and finally got enough courage to go to the dock where she was moored. I brought paper and pencil with me to make sketches of her and to get some dimensions of her size. I was sketching away when suddenly, a voice called out from the ship. It turned out to be the captain, Captain John Backland. He saw me standing on the dock, with pencil in hand, and invited me to come aboard to get a closer look at what was here. I tell you, my heart skipped a beat at the invitation and I hastened aboard. Then, for a moment, in my mind's eye, I could hear sounds like you see in the title above–the captain's orders bellowing across the deck. At that moment I envisioned myself as one of the shipmates. (Later when I suggested to my parents about becoming a sailor they put the brakes on that idea-and, boy, I'm glad.)
      Having drawings and details now of the ship to guide me I was ready to begin on the model. I started when I was 15 years old which would put it about 1934. My father got me a piece of straight-grained cedar, some 30-inches long and I started whittling away. At about the same time, I had met and was going with Phoebe, who became my wife. We had this thing where we would go to church and then would come back to the house. I would carve away and she was content to watch and give advice. I finished the hull, laid in the decking, put on the sails that my mom had made, and finished the rigging. Now, about 5 years later came the time to launch it. I put it in the water at what was the Golden Gardens Pond by the Sound. It was a thing of beauty, a joy to behold as the wind filled the sails and moved swiftly through the waters just like the one she was modeled after--and I was her captain!
      Life goes on. You know how it is. Phoebe and I married. We moved from place to place, job to job, house to house. The model was upstairs at times and then in the basement, never unloved––but time takes a toll on boats as well as humans. We made the move to Cristwood and the one thing my son wanted to keep was the boat. 

Orland Olson
Restoration of the C. S. Holmes
Congratulations!!

So I  brought it here and have been working at restoring it and will pass it on to him. There have been many hours of pleasure in refitting it. Making over 100 grommets to hold the sails in place, (my daughter-in-law made them out of nylon)--remembering the pulleys I made out of flattened buckshot. Ah, yes, she is the beauty that you can see in the lobby area by the dining room. The plaque tells the specifics of this marvelous schooner, built in 1893; it sailed to the Arctic, the South Pole, and the Fiji Islands carrying lumber, sealskins, and salted cod among many other items. She set a record for sailing from San Diego to Marrowstone Island in the upper Sound in 4 1/2 days."








Written by Leo Mahan.
May 2006.
Cristwood Courier
Submitted to Saltwater People by Orland's grandson, Rich Olson.  
Thanks to all of you for this great story.